


Weak Knees

by EvieSmallwood



Series: After But Before [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Mentions of El and others, fluffy sibling one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvieSmallwood/pseuds/EvieSmallwood
Summary: Will has been discharged from the hospital. He's home.





	

The floorboards creak under their feet as they walk to the back room. To Will's room. The progress is slow, but Will insists on getting there himself. Jonathan is behind him, ready to catch him should he fall. And falling is likely; Will's been in the hospital for a week straight, and was only discharged an hour or so ago. He stumbles, and Jonathan reaches out to steady him, firm hand on Will's back (which is more bony than normal).

"I'm fine," whispers Will, clutching the plaid blanket tighter. His knuckles are white.

Jonathan swallows. "You're not," he says, quietly. "Just let me carry you, okay?"

Will shakes his head. He's about to speak when their mother enters the house carrying his things. The door slams behind her and Will jumps (he's more skittish, and he cries at night when he thinks no one can hear, and Jonathan is more worried than words can convey).

"Hey," says the elder. "It's alright, okay? It doesn't make you any less."

There is a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Jonathan's little brother nods, conceding, and behind them Joyce's shoulders sag with relief.

Jonathan scoops up his brother so easily it's unnerving. Will, light and somehow breakable though he's proven how strong he can be, curls into Jonathan. He clutches the front of his older brother's sweater, and sighs against the knit material.

Jonathan reaches the room with ease. He sets Will down on the bed, Joyce behind them. She turns on the light. Will flinches, burying his face into his pillow.

"No light?" asks Joyce.

"No," says Will. She turns it off. His body relaxes visibly.

Jonathan pushes his brother's hair away from his eyes, forehead wrought with concern. "You should sleep," he says.

Will shivers. Jonathan hurriedly covers him with a blanket. They make eye contact. "I can't," whispers Will. "I keep... I keep seeing it."

Jonathan turns to Joyce, who worriedly fidgets, turning so that her tears are invisible. "Baby," she says, clasping her hands, "you have to. I know it's scary, and... and _exhausting_... but you need to, okay? Please, for me..."

Will looks at them both. He nods. "Okay."

Jonathan feels his stomach uncoil. He rises, but Will's had quickly grasps his wrist. "No," he says, firm. "Stay."

Jonathan glances at his mother, who nods. He turns back. "Alright."

Joyce goes, probably to get Jonathan's things from his own room. "Want me to--"

"The bed is big enough for two," Will says.

It is, but just barely. Jonathan sits on the edge. "You're gonna be okay, Will," he says. "I know it doesn't seem like it now--"

"My supercom is in my backpack," Will interrupts, sounding anxious. "I know it's late, but I won't fall asleep for a while anyway, and Mike said he wanted to talk..."

"I'll get it," Jonathan says.

And he goes.

Will sags against the mattress, staring at the ceiling, relieved, because he can't. He can't be told it's going to be okay when it won't, can't be made promises that won't be kept. It won't be okay, because every time he closes his eyes he sees it, or her, or them. Every time he sleeps, he's dead again, and when he's awake something moves in his stomach (and it must be his imagination, it must be, because the alternative is so much worse...)

Joyce walks in, holding a pillow and a blanket, wearing her leather jacket and a cracked smile, which dies as soon as she sees him. "You okay, baby?"

He's crying, he realises. Hastily he wipes his tears away, while she leans beside him. "Yeah," he says, quickly. "Just... glad to be home."

Joyce smiles, again, this time less broken. "I'm glad you're home, too. More than you know." She kisses his forehead, and Will doesn't duck away, because for a whole week he thought he'd never see her again, so what does it matter?

Jonathan returns with the promised supercom. He gives it to Will, who eagerly turns it to channel 6. Static fills the room.

"Can you guys...?"

Jonathan and Joyce nod. "Right!" says their mom. "Just... don't talk for too long, okay?"

She leaves, and Jonathan waits a second before going, too. Will tunes the com and sits up slightly. "Mike? It's Will. Over."

There is nothing, for a minute. Will tries again.

"Will! Hey! Are you okay? Over."

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just... wanted to talk to someone without having to look at them. Over."

"I get it. What's on your mind? Over."

"I don't know. I guess I feel guilty." He swallows thickly, not quite ready to make that confession, but it's much too late.

"Guilty?" asks Mike, sounding surprised. "Guilty for what?"

This is too heavy a subject for sign-offs. Will draws in a deep breath. "I lived. And she didn't. Don't you... aren't you mad?"

"Mad?!" There's a thumping sound, and Will knows Mike has gestured so much his supercom has been thrown across the room. Silence. Then, "Hello?"

"Yeah, it works."

A sigh of relief. "Thank god. Anyway, no. No, I'm not mad at you because you lived. That's like, the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Mike..."

"It _sucks_ , okay? She's gone, and it sucks more than anything has ever sucked before, but I have you. And that's awesome. You're back, and that's really, really awesome."

Will rests his forehead against the com for a minute. A tear falls from his chin onto the duvet which covers his lap.

"Will?"

"Yeah." Will sniffs off-com. "I... yeah."

"So... can we come over tomorrow?"

At that, Will brightens. It's been two whole days since he's seen his friends. "Totally!"

They're both grinning, and they can both tell. "Awesome. I'll let Lucas and Dustin know."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Will. Over and out."

Will shoves the antenna back down, and sits in silence. Jonathan comes in a minute later.

"You still want me to sleep in here?"

Will hesitates. "N-no. No, I'm good. If you're good."

Jonathan's mouth twitches like he's trying not to smile. "I'm good." He gathers his things, and then squeezes Will's shoulder with his free hand. "Night, Will."

"Yeah, goodnight." He sets his supercom on the bedside table. Jonathan is in the doorway when he speaks again. "I missed you, you know. I know that I've said it, but... I thought I was never gonna see you again, and I don't... I don't really think my life would be the same without a Jonathan Byers, so..."

He looks at his empty, slightly sweaty hands. Jonathan is at his side in less than a second, wrapping his arm around Will's shoulders. A tear falls. Jonathan hugs Will close. "Ditto," he says shakily.

Will jerks himself away, unable to stop his grin. "'Ditto'?! I pour my soul out, and all you have to say is 'ditto'?!"

Jonathan laughs, and so does Will. He shoves his older brother, who loses his balance and falls off of the bed. "Oh my god," says Will. "You're the worst."

"What I meant to say," begins Jonathan, laughter mellowing, "was 'I love you, too'."

**Author's Note:**

> Second bit in my series; comment suggestions for others :)


End file.
